


Mourning the Night

by CashaMayfield



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-04
Updated: 2006-01-04
Packaged: 2018-07-26 21:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7590946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CashaMayfield/pseuds/CashaMayfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two members of Imladris grieve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mourning the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Be gentle, be kind and please give feedback… it feeds the bunnies! Flames welcome, though they may dishearten… Burns heal after all…
> 
> Written... *ages* ago... posting here now

Pairing(s): Erestor/Elros implied, also Elrond/Glorfindel  
Rating: PG, it’s all vague….  
Summary: Two members of Imladris grieve.  
Beta: Beta read by Estelle, with much thanks… and I didn’t mean to make you cry!  
Archive: Oh please!  
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case, the great Mr Tolkien. I just borrow them every now and then :) And I promise to give them back… eventually!  
Authors Note: Be gentle, be kind and please give feedback… it feeds the bunnies! Flames welcome, though they may dishearten… Burns heal after all…

  


Erestor sat quietly in his room, staring out at the stars. He ignored the tears trickling down his face, concentrating instead on the cloak in his hands. He knew that at this time, across the other side of the house, someone else was feeling exactly the same way. They could share their pain, their sorrow, but he could not go to him. He was alone now. He had been alone for years.  
The living reminder did not help.  
Yet it was the same each year. They both knew the time was approaching, yet they did nothing to help each other through this difficult time. From Erestor's point of view, it was easy to understand why the other did not come to him. He did not know why he could not approach the other, it still left him unsure. Was it that he could not bear to think someone was suffering as much as he? Or was he scared that the other might be suffering more? Either way, he could not bring himself to console one of his oldest friends.

A knock on the door roused Elrond from his thoughts.  
"Enter." the Lord of Imladris commanded. He did not really want to see anyone this night, but a Lord's work is never done. No peace, one never knew when an emergency might arise. He looked up expectantly at the door, waiting to see who might be intruding on his personal time. Glorfindel slowly pushed open the door and peered round.  
"Elrond?" the normally brave and confident warrior was meek and uncertain as he asked the unasked question. Elrond did not bother to hide his feelings from Glorfindel. They had been friends for centuries. Elrond had helped Glorfindel when he had returned from Mandos' Halls, just as Glorfindel had helped Elrond when his brother had died. Friendship had grown closer, and finally into love. It was strange to think that it had occurred on this night, many many years ago. It was a comfort. In all of Imladris, only Glorfindel knew how hard this night was for Elrond. Or so they thought. The proud Lord of Imladris melted as Glorfindel took him in his arms, murmuring soft reassurances to his beloved.

Erestor stared out blankly into the night. He was alone. He had been alone ever since that fateful night, many many years ago. How he still dwelled on Arda he would never know. He knew why the other still dwelled. He had found a reason, a new love – which he rightly deserved. The other had been through more heartache than any elf should have. Erestor tried to console himself with the thought that the other was not alone this night. But it only served to make him feel worse. He wished there was someone who would hold him, who would keep his silent vigil with him this night. It was routine by now, but that did not make him feel better. As soon as Arien hid her rays, he would take shelter in his chambers and pull out the cloak from the chest. Then he would sit on the balcony, staring out into the night, lost in his memories. Thoughts of what he had had, and thoughts of what he had lost. When he had first met him, their first kiss, the first time they loved each other completely. Thoughts that kept him occupied through the night. Thoughts that stopped his mind from wandering to places it should not go.

Elrond lay comfortably in Glorfindel's arms. Their routine on this night had changed over the years. At first, Glorfindel had sat and listened as Elrond reminisced. Then, as their friendship had deepened into something more, they talked more – about the past, about their losses, about their future. Elrond felt that Glorfindel understood more than most what he had lost. He had Imladris, yes. He had his sons and his daughter. He had Glorfindel now. But he did not have his wife. He did not have his brother. As Elrond sighed at the thought, Glorfindel tightened his hold on his lover. The past few years he had taken to distracting Elrond, showing him that there was something more to be done than dwelling on a past that he had no control over. He had heard the pained tone in his voice as Elrond had told him of the day they had made their choices. How he felt as though his heart would break as his brother said the words that condemned them to living their lives apart. How he felt that twins should not be separated, and they should have shared the same fate. And of course, how he worried about his sons, and the choices they would make. He did not want Elladan or Elrohir going through the same as he had done. He did not want one of his sons to be left alone. They had played chess and told each other tales of their youth until Arien rose in the sky. Then they had taken that step and had spent the night in each others arms. It offered comfort to them both, kept the dark thoughts from surfacing and filled their minds with pleasures unknown.

Pleasures unknown that Erestor would never know again. He had made a vow on the night it happened. He had lost his love and doubted that he would ever find another. Nay, he did not *want* to find another. He had found his Valinor on Arda, and he had lost it. Things would never be the same again. He remembered one night, long ago, when he had actually told someone what he felt, how he felt. It was something he was unaccustomed to doing. Since that fateful night, he had hardened his heart against others, built up barriers, never daring to let someone close enough to understand. Close enough to see how much pain he was in. But that night, he had broken from routine briefly and had gone in search of food. On his way to the kitchens, he had met the commander of the guards, also prowling for food. They had talked that night, even though Glorfindel had been in a hurry. Erestor knew where it was he was heading, who he was heading to. He wished that he had someone to do that for him, someone he could turn to on this night. He supposed it was worse for Elrond, for he had felt his brother's death physically and mentally. The link between them no longer existed after that night. But Erestor suffered too. Had it not been bad enough he had witnessed it himself? Was it not painful for him to return to Imladris and have to take over all Elrond's duties as the Lord succumbed to his grief?  
He had almost followed Glorfindel that night, almost gone with him to Elrond. Maybe, just maybe if he had, he would not feel so alone. But he had watched Glorfindel leave silently, not saying a word to him. He could not tell Glorfindel the whole truth, only that he was grieving this night. He mentioned no names, no dates, unsure of how the other would take the information. He had wanted it that way. Arguments had occurred the day they made their choices. Words were said that could not be forgiven. Each had lost their brother.

Elros.

Erestor breathed the name into the night. He gazed at the stars. He could not help feeling he had lost more than Elrond. He had lost his love. It was true that Elrond had lost his brother, but he still had family, friends... a lover. Erestor had no one. He had loved Elros with all that he was, and when he had died, a part of him had died with him. He felt empty inside without Elros' love. They had spent years meeting each other, stealing moments whenever they could. Nights spent in each others arms, loving each other completely. He had thought that saying goodbye until the next time was the most painful thing he could do.

It wasn't. Saying goodbye to him for the last time was worse.

Glorfindel lay with Elrond in his arms, his lover's head on his chest. As he stroked the dark strands, he let his mind wander over the nights they had spent like this. All except one. The night he had gone to the kitchens to fetch a drink for Elrond after he had cried himself hoarse. He had been puzzled by the counsellor’s demeanour. Erestor had explained that he was grieving. Glorfindel, too wrapped up in concern for his lover, had accepted the explanation with a reassuring smile and gone on his way. Elrond shifted slightly and let out a contented moan. And that was when it hit Glorfindel. Erestor grieving. Elrond grieving. Were they grieving over the same elf? Could they be? He knew he would find no rest until he knew the answer. Pressing a soft kiss to his lover's hair, he slid out of the embrace and out of the bed. Pausing only to wrap himself in a robe, he made his way to Erestor's quarters.

Erestor started as he heard the knock on the door. Who could be calling on him this early in the morning? Holding the cloak tightly to his chest, unwilling to let it go, as if it could bring back his love if he held it close, he rose and crossed the room.  
The concerned blue eyes of Glorfindel stared back at him, then glanced down towards the cloak. The warrior's brow frowned, confused momentarily, as if recognising the cloak, but being unable to place it. Finally, he said the words Erestor had been longing to hear from someone.  
"'Tis Elros, is it not?"  
As Glorfindel spoke, Erestor felt his knees give way and he fell forwards, only to feel the strong arms of the warrior catching him. He stared upwards, tears clouding his vision. He could not speak; he could barely nod his reply. Glorfindel's face softened and he also sank to his knees, carefully cradling Erestor.  
"Come, my friend. There is someone I think it would do much good for you to talk to." Without waiting for a reply, Glorfindel stood, helping Erestor up, before marching him to Elrond's chambers.

Softly, he opened the door. Elrond stirred, blinking in the early morning light.  
"'Fin?" He stared at his love, disorientated and confused. Never before had Glorfindel left on this night. He blinked as Erestor moved into the room behind Glorfindel.  
"What is this, Glorfindel?" Elrond sat up and stared questioningly at Glorfindel.  
"Erestor grieves also, my Lord... as do you. I believe it might do you both good to talk." He smiled at Elrond and left the room. Erestor stood nervously by the door, unsure of what to do now. Glorfindel had been unstoppable, saying that it would help them both if they could talk.  
"Erestor? Who do you grieve for?" Erestor looked at Elrond. The normally imposing Lord of Imladris suddenly didn't look quite so imposing, sitting there in bed; hair tousled and eyes red. He swallowed hard and clutched instinctively at the cloak still in his hands before whispering, almost inaudibly.  
"Elros..." Elrond stared at him for long moments, before reason gave way to emotion and he hung his head.  
"You loved him." A statement, not a question, for only someone who had lost one they loved would grieve. He now recognised the signs. The withdrawal as this night approached. The disappearances now made sense.  
"Were.... were you with him at..." Elrond trailed off, staring deep into his friend's eyes, already knowing the answer to the question he could not ask. Erestor hugged the cloak close to him before offering it to Elrond; the simple gesture meaning more than either of them could voice. As Elrond reached for it, Erestor found he could not let it go. He could not let his last grasp on his love be lost to him. Reluctantly, he met Elrond's eyes, fearing to find hate and distaste as he pulled back. Instead, he only found warmth and compassion.  
The depth of those eyes broke the last barrier in Erestor and he found fresh tears rolling down his face. He looked down at the cloak and then back up at Elrond, finding matching tears in the brown eyes before him.

A simple embrace.

The memory of love lost.

The memory of him.

Elros.


End file.
